For those of you who are new to this site, Poems of the Day are written with great abandon, not care and attention. They come from within, allowed to be weird, accepted as quick rather than craftsman-like. I will put one of mine here, and I encourage you to do the same. Accept your wild inner postures and let them out onto the page. Say “yes” rather than “oh no.” Just write.
Poem of the Day 05/11/16
“All shall be well” –Julian of Norwich
But I sleep alone in the wrong bed.
“Que sera, sera” –Doris Day
The path leads down and away
“Sometimes the magic works, and sometimes it doesn’t.” –Old Lodge Skins in Little Big Man
I scream and cry, and only then grow silent.
“Things fall apart; the center cannot hold” –Yeats
But the kitchen is clean.
“Ring around the rosy, a pocket full of posies.” –Children’s nursery rhyme
Nature grows thin when love is gone.
“Time is on my side.” –The Rolling Stones
I ache, listening to the clock he made.
“He who can destroy a thing, controls it.” –Frank Herbert, Dune
I stare. I wonder. I wait.
“Where go the boats?” –Robert Louis Stevenson
22 Responses
Jennifer Juniper rides a dappled mare
Jennifer Juniper, pine bough in her hair
Is she bleeding? Yes, I think so
Is she needing? I think I’ll go.
Sad you’re dyin’, Jenn-if-er my love.
Like a nursery rhyme but not. All of sudden she’s bleeding and then dying. Lots to think about here!
“Lots to think about here!” I think that’s a first for a Donovan song. 🙂
Well damn. I thought that sounded familiar.
Swans a-nesting in the lake
Mallard gets between two drakes
Grebe in camouflage discreet
The things I see,
I can’t participate
Ours is not to do and die
Ours is but to wonder why
I know it messes up the rhyme, but for some reason I read the last line as, “Ours is but to wonder what the …?
Okay, I wrecked your nice poem. I just felt like doing it to say hi and welcome back and it’s nice to goof around, especially since you already reversed the order of the old quote. Maybe this is “Replies of the Day” with full permission to not keep in line or follow rules. Or maybe I’m just wondering around. Ya think?
I live alone and what a pleasure it is
no need to please anyone but me.
There’s the garden and fruit trees to maintain
Fresh lettuce, beets, bok choy and beans
in the summer it’s shorts and a bikini top
I eat hot food from the frying pan
leave dirty dishes to soak in the sink
and wash them once a week
I live alone and what a pleasure it is
Sheila, I loved this. Sometimes I wish I, too, lived alone so I could do the dishes once a week and come and go as I please. Thanks for posting this.
Perfect poem of the day. Bravo for looking around and capturing what’s going on.
I multi-task
I clear the clutter
I find lost things amid the rubble
Who goes where
With what and when
I sort the chaos into order
How in the heck do men rule the world?
Good one! Chaos into order; I think we can all relate to that. loved the sounds of clutter/rubble and who/where/what/when. And world!
These Dreams
Just outside of my reality,
inside my imagination and past my touch
live my faded dreams.
Some are simple
and some are grandiose,
these dreams of mine.
Will I become an art teacher,
an interior decorator,
an artist, a writer?
Will I live in a big house,
sail the sea
or drive a fast car?
Will I have a man who loves me,
children who care
and a family who protects me always?
And what of the child still left inside of me?
Have I honored and protected her dreams
despite the ever-changing tides?
Let me close my eyes
and wrap my arms around her.
Tell her it will be okay, please stay.
I found the ending very touching with you wrapping your arms around your inner child. Good work.
I’m a great fan of poems that tell a story of a life. Dreams. They live one. Thanks for this!
Hmm.
Do I have a poem today?
Could it be lurking, like a jilted lover
Or a summer toad?
But I’m not supposed to search so hard.
Carefree is my goal!
I’ll take a walk outside and see
If one comes running up to me!
It’s always fun, and a wonder, to just start with a simple question, as you do here, and then discover that YES, a poem emerges. Loved the juxtaposition of the lurking ex-lover with the summer toad. You went out to find that poem, and one did find you.
In this life I’m told to be
Who everyone wants to see.
But what if I just want to be
As different different can be?
What if I choose to refuse
To follow some rules
And maybe also choose
To share my own beliefs and views?
I don’t want to be another plant
In someone else’s garden.
I do not want
To do just what I please
Then have to beg for pardon.
Bravo! Heartfelt and honest.
The Tenebrous stair
In silent evening hours
The pillow receives me
Absorbing the unrest of my day
Guiding me down the tenebrous stair
… To the dim space between this life
And another
From the darkest corners of the room
Confusing, disorienting
A tenuous flicker is seen
Ethereal images; whispers of light …
Of … thought or waking dream unrealized
Hopes and fears unfounded or true
Causing them to race often out of control
Tilting at windmills in Quixote fashion
Often falling from heights unfathomed
At times simply wondering or wandering
Wherein those darkened corners
Faces at times appear, or voices
Those long gone or perhaps
Never met … strangers we fear
The long night gleans whispers
A lacunae of then and now and when
The eurhythmy of time and experience
Each heart throb a dulling cadence
Beating in my ears ‘til all is calm
And … I am gone
Thanks, James. I like that word “eurhythmy.”
Thank you … a very odd word, but it seemed adaptable enough in this instance.
“Poetry is easy,” said the Author to his scribe,
“Unless you have decided that you want the words to rhyme!”